


Light-shifter

by palmtreelights



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers S.P.D.
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Canon Character of Color, Female Character of Color, Friendship, Gen, Male Character of Color, Memories, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmtreelights/pseuds/palmtreelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wounded after a battle, Z navigates a maze of her own memories brought to searing detail by Broodwing’s new alien friend, while in the physical world, Bridge sniffs out the trail to bring her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Light-shifter

Z watches it happen again, like a recording from a simulated exercise.

_At the front of the team, she had the least time to back away when Broodwing struck out in a spin attack. She leapt up and back, as hard and as far as she could, but his wings had a much longer reach than she’d expected. The sharp tip of one of them sliced across her middle, knocking her off-balance mid-air and reverting her to her cadet uniform._

_With the other frozen in place, she was sure to hit the ground hard enough to break something. Then Jack – good, dependable Jack, her brother, always watching out for her – sprang forward and broke her fall, keeping her head and upper body from slamming into the ground._

_The tear in her uniform was already matted with blood that now dripped onto Jack’s hands, but he didn’t notice, too concerned with trying to wake her as he powered down._

She frowns, pain shooting between her eyes as the fourth replay of the battle ends. She isn’t dead, clearly. Headaches like this are something only living beings feel. Breathing through it, she looks down at her stomach, where the gash should be, yet all she finds is her pristine uniform.

“Well,” calls a voice from beyond where the battle plays again. Z snaps into a fighting stance, her pain forgotten.

“I had hoped for all five of you, or at least the Red Ranger.” Hands clasped behind his back, Broodwing stands by the replay and shrugs. “But you’ll do.” He snaps a finger, and the replay disappears. No screen, no projector – but now Z can make out the wall behind it, rocky and smooth. A cave of some sort, but none she’s ever seen in person before.

"What did you do to me?” Z demands. “You obviously want me and the others dead, so why did you heal me?”

Broodwing laughs. “A _friend_ of mine did me the favor of bringing you here in one piece.”

Her head starts to hurt again, the ache less intense but still sharp. His story doesn’t make sense. If the video is right, she had been in SPD’s care by the end of the battle, and certainly in the Rangers’ hands. “That can’t be right. My friends had me.” Horror worms its way into her thoughts. If she’s here now, are they all right?

“They still do,” Broodwing says, his voice almost singsong with delight. Before she can ask another question, he continues, “Maybe you’ll figure it out. _Maybe_ I’ll tell you if you don’t. But for now… I think I’ll enjoy this. Your confusion and fear are filling the air. I’ve never felt so much terrible joy!”

Z clenches her fists. What could he be talking about?

Broodwing turns to leave, beginning to walk toward the wall, then stops just before he reaches it. “Your fellow Rangers will take at least twice as long as you to figure it out, but don’t worry. One way or another, you won’t be alone here forever.”

Z lunges for him, crossing the small cavern in just a few steps, but Broodwing walks through the stone wall as if he had Jack’s power. She stops before it, cautious, and pounds it with her fist. The wall is solid beneath her touch. Frustrated, she yells, spins, and kicks the wall with her heel. It does nothing to help her escape, but at least it lets out some of her anger. She can feel the air buzzing with it, pressing against her head until it pounds.

Breathing heavily, she sits on the ground with her back against the wall that had been as air to her captor. Though she can’t fathom it now, she will solve this puzzle long before Broodwing is hoping she will.

*

Commander Cruger does not blame them for this, but guilt is heavy in the hospital wing as the team stands in a cluster beside a motionless, unconscious Z. It comes most sharply from Jack, a burning, pulsing energy that prickles against Bridge’s skin, anger and regret like a thousand shards of glass.

Bridge tries harder to ignore it, thinking back to the fight, so average save for the end, Broodwing’s wingspan, the feeling of something slithering through the air itself from the tips of Broodwing’s wings.

Something is missing from this picture.

“I’m gonna go investigate,” he says, breaking the team’s silence, making loose fists at his sides as they all turn to look at him.

“Investigate what?” asks Jack.

Bridge glances at each of the others in turn and clears his throat. “The site of the battle.”

“For what?” Sky demands, his brow furrowed in a deep frown. “What could you possibly hope to find there that’ll help?”

“Wait.” Bridge lifts a hand as if to physically halt them. “You mean this doesn’t seem weird to any of you?”

Sky rolls his eyes. “Being injured after a battle? No, Bridge. That actually seems pretty normal.”

“Yeah, but for this long? Over a cut?”

“A _cut_? Did you get a good look at those bandages? It’s a _gash_!” Syd heaves a shaky sigh once she’s done, glancing at Z, perhaps hoping to have woken her.

No such luck, of course.

“Think about it,” Bridge insists. “Even when Icthior took most of us out, we weren’t hurt badly enough that we couldn’t get up against the doctor’s orders and go bring him in, right?” He pauses, gives his friends the chance to respond, to add their thoughts or doubts to his own. “This was just a slash of his wings. Or _was it_?”

A handstand would be very helpful right about now, but the tension simmering in the room discourages him from trying. He looks at Z instead, itching to read her aura. With the others here, though, he hesitates. He’s afraid of what it might tell him, and he’s more afraid they’ll want him to put to words what he may not be able to understand.

“I’m gonna go investigate,” he says again. “None of you has to come if you don’t want to.”

He looks at each of them in turn, spares one more glance at Z, and heads out at a measured pace. The sooner he finds something, anything at all, the better, but rushing will do him no good. Maybe it’s better this way, him going out to search by himself. If any of the others came along, they might rush him.

No sooner is he outside, halfway across the courtyard, than he hears footsteps behind him, running after him as if he’ll disappear the minute he’s out of sight.

“Wait!” calls Syd, Jack and Sky at either side of her, keeping pace with her until they reach Bridge.

“Change of plans?” Bridge asks them, smiling.

Jack shrugs, tilting his head to one side. “Standing there hoping she’ll wake up isn’t helping her any. We’ve got SPD’s best doctors keeping watch, so she’ll be all right if we all do a little detective work for a while.”

Syd nods as Sky says, “It can’t hurt to try.”

Even though Bridge knows to trust his instincts, it never hurts when his team, his friends, see the sense in them, too.

“Let’s get started,” Jack says, nodding in the direction of the fight, and leads the way.

*

Every now and again, the invisible, intangible screen will flicker to life, playing either the battle that landed her here or surveillance clips of Newtech City or the SPD base. Z hates those the most because they remind her that she is trapped here while the world goes on without her.

Her morpher is dead, knocked out by whatever field is keeping the walls solid, but a glance at her wristwatch tells her it’s been half a day since Broodwing came to taunt her. It feels like longer, and it feels like only a moment, all at the same time. Sky could probably tell for sure. Bridge could probably read the energies here and see what’s really going on. Syd could probably chip away at the wall with a few good punches. Jack—

Jack could get out of here in the first place.

But Z is not any of them, and they are not here with her. She hasn’t tried replicating. It’s not a large enough space that she needs more of her to see multiple details at once, and copies aren’t separate people. They don’t think for themselves the way her teammates do.

The screen flashes again, this time showing her the front doors of the SPD base. She narrows her eyes and looks away, willing Broodwing to come back so she can take him down, but before she even makes a fist, a flash of color catches her eye. She looks back at the screen again, and there they are, the other Rangers, pausing for a moment around Bridge before Jack leads the charge.

The image disappears. She looks around the cavern, hoping this is another trick of Broodwing’s, another taunt. “Again,” she breathes, her heart pounding. “I need to see that again.”

She hears fingers snap behind her and whirls to face the source of the sound. Broodwing, however, merely points to where the screen has reappeared.

This time she can’t help but smile. There they are again, Bridge walking out first, stopping when the others come out after him, running. Frowning, she wills herself to hear them, but no sound reaches her ears. The image fades away again as soon as they’ve run off.

“Now the real games begin,” Broodwing says, and she knows that if she could see his face, she would see a smug, maniacal grin.

She turns, intent on showing him that she is not afraid, but her defiant glare is met with only the rock wall beyond where he had stood.

“I will be your company now.”

Z turns to her left, ready for a fight, but the man standing there does not lunge at her. He is a full head shorter than her, his skin green, his bald head speckled with brown and yellow and red, like leaves in autumn. He has two tufts of cotton-like eyebrows and what looks like leaf vein tattoos along his neck, arms, and legs, down to his hands and bare feet. His sleeveless tunic is whitest white, and his eyes are sunset orange.

He may not have any weapons in hand, but Z knows to fear what he may do to her.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he says, taking a single step forward. “In your language, my name means Light-shifter. Your people call mine Leaflings. We have accepted this designation.

“I know who you are, Elizabeth Delgado. I know everywhere that you have been. You will not leave this place unless I release you, and I have no incentive to do so. Is this satisfactory?”

Suppressing the urge to shudder, she forces herself to relax her stance and think. She has heard of Leaflings before. There aren’t many here on Earth because they tend to stay on their island in their home planet, isolationist more than peaceful. Of the very few outsiders who have gained entry into Leafling territory, none have ever come out. Z has always imagined those people taking oaths, swearing new loyalty, renouncing their past—things she could never see herself doing.

But outside of that, Leaflings keep their secrets, and institutions like SPD allow them their privacy because they never attack except to defend their home.

So why, then, is Light-shifter working with Broodwing?

“It’s not,” she says, finally answering his question. “Your people don’t make unprovoked attacks on others. My team and I haven’t done anything to you, so why are you doing this?” It certainly couldn’t be about money, could it?

“The matter is complex,” Light-shifter answers, ever calm. “It does not concern you.”

“If the matter is the reason you brought me here, then it _does_ concern me.”

He bows his head, his lips moving in silent words. Z readies herself for an attack, but what comes instead is a change in scenery. It still smells like the cavern’s stone walls, but she sees, in the crystal clarity of living in it, a memory. She is a young girl, and she has created a double to retrieve a ball that got stuck in a tree branch. Jack, who is just about the same age then, approaches her, frowning at the real her, and says, “You don’t have a twin.”

She grabs the ball and hops to the ground, her double disappearing as she straightens. Frightened by this boy who knows her secret, she goes to shove him to the ground, but she passes right through him. Turning, she faces him with wide eyes.

He smiles. They are kindred spirits. It is the day they become friends.

Suddenly, the cavern comes back into focus, and Z shuts her eyes until they adjust to the dim lighting. “What _was_ that?”

“If you wish answers, there is one way you may obtain them,” Light-shifter tells her. He waits until she opens her eyes again before he continues. “Perhaps it may even lead to your freedom.”

“How?” Z asks. She is still shaking inside, still feeling the fear of having a stranger discover the very thing that made all the other children tease her. On that day, she had acquired a brother. She can’t resign herself to this place without putting up a fight. If Jack ends up rescuing her, she’ll never hear the end of it. And if Broodwing intends to bring the rest of the squad here, it will be better for them all if she figures out what’s really going on before then.

“While I am bound, to a certain extent, to a specific obligation on your planet, I am first and foremost a Leafling. It is the way of my people to put tests before those who would demand to know our secrets. As this is not strictly to do with my people, the tests you must pass will not be as difficult. Ah, but do not feel relief. We are not a gentle species. You must prove yourself worthy of the knowledge you seek.”

If developing patience for his riddle-like speeches is a test, she’s going to have a fair amount of trouble. Breathing deeply, she nods. “What kind of tests are we talking about?” She hopes they’ll be physical. Those she’d do well at. Given the flash of memory earlier, though, she knows better than to expect it.

He stares at her a moment, and Z feels the air begin to hum. The sound-feeling crests suddenly, pressing against her eardrums to the point of pain before ebbing away with equal speed.

“There is much from which you hide, much which lurks within you and fills you with fear,” Light-shifter tells her, meeting her gaze. “This is sacrilege among my people. Show me that you truly are brave, and then I will—” He breaks off, shutting his eyes, nodding slowly. “Then, we will see what can be done.”

It’s scarcely a promise, but it’s all she has. “I’m in.”

“Very well.” Light-shifter gives her a faint smile that sends a chill through her. “Then we begin.”

*

Anxiety floats around Bridge in three colors as he and the others enter the plaza where they had last fought Broodwing. He breathes deeply, ignoring a dull, pulsing headache as he pulls off a glove and waves his hand in the air. The impressions of the battle play before him. He identifies the team, their colors burning bright. Broodwing appears blood-red, much larger than them.

Bridge focuses, watching their forms move swiftly to and fro as he seeks the very end of the encounter, slowing the energies when he finds it. There is Broodwing, poised to spin, and there is Z at the head of the team, having just landed a solid kick. The spin attack comes next, and everyone jumps back. He watches Z’s nebulous yellow form fly backwards with the impact, and just before she lands—

“That’s weird,” he says, frowning.

“What?” asks Syd, peering over his shoulder at the residual energy she cannot see.

“There are two of her.”

“Two?” asks Jack.

“Like when she makes a copy of herself.” Bridge waves his hand again, replaying the moment, and stops it at the crucial time. “Yep, two.”

“She didn’t make any copies of herself in that battle,” Jack reminds him, impatience dancing on the edges of his voice.

Bridge nods, stepping forward, closer to where the red impression of Jack is running to catch Z. Just overhead is the second yellow form, more intense than the one below it. That is interesting, but more so is the oddly shimmering shape above it, coiling around the brighter yellow of the copy.

“This is _really_ weird,” he says.

“ _What’s_ weird, Bridge?” Sky demands.

Frowning, Bridge waves his hand in the air again, watches the shimmer lift the brighter yellow a few more feet before disappearing with it, as, below, Jack’s vibrant red form catches a faded yellow shape, the Z that is lying in a hospital bed back in the base.

“ _Bridge_ ,” Sky snaps.

Bridge shakes his head as he slips his glove back on, the colorful shapes in the air fading as he turns from them. “I don’t know,” he answers, shaking his head. “I have—” He waves his hands about his head, as if this will show them his confusion. “Ideas,” he says, dropping his hands.

“Talk us through them,” Sky insists.

Bridge frowns, the headache growing stronger as he tries to cobble together even one of them, even part of one, just so he can tell the others. “We need to get back to base,” he says instead. “If one of my ideas is right, then Z’s aura will tell me so.”

“You go ahead,” Jack says, his gaze hard. “I’m going to keep looking around here. Maybe I’ll find something.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for any of us to be alone right now,” Bridge says. The shimmering _thing_ haunts his memory. If it could force a duplicate – an _invisible_ duplicate, no less – then what else could it do?

“I’ll stay,” Sky states. He doesn’t say it, and Bridge doesn’t need his power to understand. Out here there is at least a fragment of hope that they’ll find some sort of clue.

Bridge nods at them, and he and Syd start back to base.

“What did you see, Bridge?” she asks him once they’re walking side by side.

He shrugs.  “I don’t really know how to explain it without sounding like I’m making it up.”

“Try me.”

“Well, for one thing, the copy I saw? It’s— it _looked_ more like her.” He glances at Syd, sees her frown, and elaborates, “Our colors, they’re very distinctive energy. Whenever I look at them, they’re bright and bold, as solid as an aura can be. Those things from where we fought, they look more like the ghosts you see in movies, only—well, in color. _Our_ colors. Broodwing looks kind of—”

“The point, Bridge?”

“Right, sorry. So up until the point where Broodwing wounds her, Z’s color is very bright. But then, when the double suddenly just—sort of gets yanked out of her, the yellow fades a little.”

“And the copy is bright?”

Bridge nods, smiling just the tiniest bit. He is so proud of how smart their squad is. Remembering the rest of what he saw, though, he shakes his head, and his smile disappears. “Something else was there. Something we couldn’t see. And I think whatever it was has to do with the double.”

Syd nods slowly, crossing her arms. He has scared her, but not enough for her to want to go running back to her room and hiding behind the little cover Peanuts offers her. She’s so much braver than she looks. The whole of SPD is lucky to have her.

“So, if the double is the one that’s very bright, and if the real Z is the one whose color you saw dimming—”

“Then her aura should still be dim,” he finishes for her, smiling. “You’re good at this.”

She grins, but just as quickly, she frowns again and shakes her head. “I’m worried.”

“We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

*

No sooner have the words left Light-shifter’s mouth than the world changes all around her, the cave becoming an endless, inky darkness that Z must close her eyes against to feel steady.

The air itself feels alive, rippling against her as she wills away the faint remains of a headache. With no floor beneath her to speak of, the floating sensation is almost enough to make her stomach churn. But no, she is still and upright, her balance intact. She can handle this.

 _“You speak second human language,”_ Light-shifter says, his voice echoing inside her head.

“Yes,” she tells him.

 _“You used it as a tool,”_ he continues. _“You used it to steal.”_

Shame mixed with pride grips her heart for a moment, but Z allows herself to remember. She had learned it from her foster father’s cousins, a pair of twins who believed that, despite having lost her biological family, Z should have some connection with her heritage. So Elena and Mirna had taught her a little every day.

It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that people pitied her more if she didn’t speak English to them. They gave her more money if they heard her say, stretching out her vowels in the almost wailing tones of a starving child, that she was hungry. And when she was old enough to make friends in low places, the appearance of being more of an outsider than some of the other kids on the street had meant fresher bread and an extra apple or two. She rarely ate the spoils of her trickery, preferring, like Jack, to share it with indigents or other kids who were too weak or too little to seek more than they could get by themselves.

That was before they’d had to set out on their own, before they’d started on their crusade to clothe and feed more than just one group of people and aliens in a single place in the middle of their enormous city.

“I did it to help people,” she says to Light-shifter, though she’s sure he already knows.

She feels the shadows clear as her feet come to rest on the ground. Taking a breath, she opens her eyes.

It’s night, the first quarter moon half obscured by clouds. A breeze blows away the dampness in the air between a bakery and a toy store. She is wearing ripped jeans, a tank top, and a denim jacket. Around her left wrist is a bracelet, a simple thing of inexpensive metal with a fake topaz charm hanging from one link.

It’s her fifteenth birthday, and the bracelet is Jack’s gift to her.

Being present in the memory is like living it all over again. Z remembers only the major details of it as she walks out onto the street. It’s past ten, so Jack is probably in the park, practicing the forms they learned in their martial arts class at school earlier today. She said she’d meet him there after taking a quick walk, a yearly ritual she’d started long ago, from before they had met and discovered how easy it was to sneak out unnoticed. One night a year, she allowed herself to wonder who her parents had been and where people went when they died. She felt sad on those nights, but never alone, not since she and Jack found each other.

At the end of the block, she crosses the street and goes around a bookstore, into the narrow, more private pathways between the buildings. Her world is shadows now, secrets and salvation, the thrill of danger and the indescribable joy of brightening others’ lives.

She stops by the neighborhood convenience store, a little place where the owner keeps the back door open for his employees to have a smoke or their nightly allowance of one can of anything, and pokes her head into the lit interior. A handful of late-night shoppers walk slowly through the aisles, tired from another long day’s work. To her right is the tiny back room, its door ajar where it is usually shut. She frowns and steps toward it, past the shelf where the owner leaves a jar of mixed nuts for her to take on the one night a week she stops by.

She doesn’t make it. Strong fingers curl around her elbow, yanking her back before she has a chance to even gasp. In the sudden dark of the alley, she can’t make out more than the hulking shape of her captor. He’s not a cop, she decides, because the police are always stupid enough to announce their presence and give her the chance to run.

“You here to steal, kid?” he demands, flinging her against the open door. Even from there, she can smell the stench of old beer on his breath.

Thinking fast, Z says, “ _Vine a ver al dueño.”_

 _“La nena esa,”_ the man growls, looming over her. “You’re shit out of luck, kid _._ Your friend is busy out front, _y yo no soy ningún pendejo_.”

Z flinches, forgetting completely that she can call backup at will. It’s like an intrusion, hearing him speak her family’s language, and it’s worse than the time she’d had to work thrice as hard to get a cop to let her go without writing her up.

Frozen to the spot, she watches him lift a massive hand. She has lived this before, she knows she makes it out of this unharmed, but Jack is nowhere to be found, and she can’t make herself move. The part of her that knows she is twenty-two cannot break away and fight, not when she feels fifteen, sounds fifteen, is in serious danger at fifteen.

Jack knocks into her, grabbing her hand as they fall, yanking her to her feet as the man curses and shakes out his aching hand.

Z runs behind him, trips, falls flat on the ground. She opens her eyes, rolling onto her back as she raises an arm to defend herself.

But all she sees is storm cloud grey and the long sleeves of her cadet uniform over her arms. She is twenty-two again, breathing hard, and she is still captive.

“What bravery,” Light-shifter says, stepping out from within the clouds to stand before her. He smiles, utterly insincere. “My, what sacrifices you made for the greater good.”

“He could’ve killed me,” Z protests, dusting herself off as she stands. “I was just a kid, and he was—”

“Defending his employer’s property, which you were discerning enough to steal despite being, as you say, ‘just a kid.’”

“Whatever I got from there was _given_ to me.” Try as she might, her voice shakes, and she looks past Light-shifter to see if that man is still chasing her.

“You waste so much energy rationalizing your behavior,” Light-shifter says. “Such a human thing to do.”

“I know what I did for all those years was right,” Z says, narrowing her eyes and meeting Light-shifter’s gaze. “And I did steal, but not from that store. I did not deserve what that man wanted to do to me.”

The clouds part, and once again the cave comes into being. Z places a hand on the stone wall, drawing strength from its solidity.

“Well done,” says Light-shifter, his face devoid of emotion. “Shall we proceed quickly, or would you like time to rest?”

Sighing, she leans back against the smooth rock. “Give me five minutes,” she says, and she shuts her eyes.

*

Even if he is right, confirming the color of Z’s aura will give Bridge absolutely no way to help her. Syd is probably thinking the same thing, given how she’s had her lips pressed into a straight line for nearly the entire walk back to base.

Still, he tries, waving an ungloved hand over their comatose friend and watching the energies shift into something he can see.

“It’s weak,” he tells Syd, his voice catching as, for one awful second, he loses hope. “Pretty dim.”

Syd bites her lips and takes Z’s hand. Maybe she’s hoping that will change things. Bridge hopes so, too, even as he sees the aura stay the same.

“We should get going,” he says, putting his glove back on. He takes one more look at the dull yellow as it returns to its invisible state, and just as he turns to Syd, he sees a flash in the corner of his eye.

“What is it?” Syd asks, as he yanks off his glove and waves his hand again. “Is it back to normal?”

“For a second, it— _ow_.” He puts his ungloved hand to his temple, wincing at the stabbing pain in his head. He forces himself to keep his eyes open through it, because he needs to be sure. Just when he thinks it’s too much to bear, Z’s aura flashes again, a pulse of yellow starting from the top of her head and flowing swiftly down to her feet.

He turns his back to Z, and the pain goes away.

“Are you okay?” Syd asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. When did she move from across the bed to just beside him?

Instead of answering, Bridge lifts his gaze to the door and waves his hand at it. He catches the tail end of a shimmering shape as it slips through the closed metal panel. “Okay, remember that thing I told you about? The one we can’t see?” He pauses long enough for Syd to nod. “I just saw it.”

Syd’s eyes open wide, and wider still as something else occurs to her. “If you’re the only one who can see it, we should all be together.”

They look at each other, offering silent agreement, but before they can head out the door, their morphers beep. Syd pulls hers out first and holds it up for the two of them to hear Jack shout, “We need backup _right now_!”

*

“You are not as selfless as your past may make you seem.”

Z sighs, shutting her eyes as she leans her head back against the wall. Knowing what the tests are going to be like makes her less nervous about the ones she must still face, but she can’t predict what Light-shifter will put her through next. “I must still have at _least_ another minute left.”

“Time flies,” Light-shifter says lightly, and all at once he goes back to formal, aloof tones. “You did not truly wish to help the indigent. You merely followed along.”

“I’ve _always_ wanted to help people,” she snaps. Straightening, she adds, “I just wanted to have more of an impact.”

“Or, perhaps, you were merely at a loss, and so you deferred to your friend.”

Before she can even think of a comeback, brilliant light fills the room and takes the floor and the walls, leaving her floating again with her eyes shut tight. Light-shifter is silent, probably attempting to psych her out before the test even begins, but she keeps it all together. Her feet find the ground again, and she opens her eyes.

Jack takes her hand, guiding her through the crowd of now ex-classmates and their family members, the former still clad in caps and gowns. It’s photo op time, and Z and Jack have already had their picture taken by their respective foster parents and the one teacher who cares to have it. The flash of a vintage camera dances before her eyes, so she holds tight and lets him lead the way to the motorcycle they stole, saved, and traded for over fifteen long months.

Z gets on behind Jack, grabbing both their caps and tucking them between them as Jack puts on his helmet. When hers is secured, he’s off, barely giving her enough time to grab onto him as they leave high school behind for good.

At the park, they set their caps and gowns on the bike, the light breeze posing no threat to the garments. Beneath them, they’re dressed in their best, a grey dress shirt and black pants Jack acquired last week, and a blue floral dress Elena, one of her foster father’s cousins, sewed for Z for her present. Mirna, the other twin, had given Z the rose she is still holding, saying, “ _Como toda graduanda debe tener.”_

“You’re keeping your nerd medal on?” Jack calls from his seat atop a picnic table.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re just jealous.” To spite him, she holds onto it as she strolls on over, reflecting sunlight onto his face with it when she sits.

“Jealous? I’m just glad we’re finally _done_ with all that useless stuff.” Pushing the medal away, he says, “By the way, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just ‘one of the girls.’”

“Oh, please, as if I’ve never worn a dress before.” She doesn’t, usually, but she’s not opposed to them. They’re just impractical for their line of work. Or volunteering. Whatever they want to call it. For good measure, she smacks him in the arm, chuckling.

“ _Hey_ , that was uncal—okay, that is _cheating_!“  He swats at the copy she just had smack him, and she laughs when he looks at the real her, the copy fading into the air.

“We should celebrate,” she tells him, squinting up at the sky. With no more assignments to do and no higher education ahead of them, this summer is theirs. She only allows herself half a second to think about college again, how well she did on the standardized test her history teacher paid for her to take. It’s not the place for her. Diplomas won’t feed the hungry or help those in need, and even if they could, they take too much time and money to earn. As it stands, the prospect of having to find a place of their own to live in the coming weeks is bad enough.

Until then, though, she wants to enjoy this freedom.

“How about…” She bites her lips for a moment as she goes through the city in her mind. “The fairgrounds? It’ll be crowded today.” A smug smile on her face, she looks at Jack. “We could sneak onto any ride we want.”

“It’s a definite contender,” Jack says, nodding slowly. “But… no, I can’t. I’m thinking that’s where I’ll go with Kelsey tonight, so I don’t want to be seen there today. How about we go trade with Piggy instead?”

“Sure, take me to the trash heap for our celebration.” Z rolls her eyes, only half sarcastic. “You really _are_ a brother to me, you know.”

Jack shrugs, smirking. “I do my best.”

She goes to smack him again, but her hand simply passes through him. He laughs, shaking his head. “In all seriousness, though, I don’t want to get these clothes too messed up before tonight, so if it’s not something that we can do quick right after we change, I’ll pass.”

“Things must be pretty serious if you’re going to that much trouble keeping all tidy for her,” she remarks, arching her eyebrows.

Jumping to his feet, he shrugs. “So what’ll it be, sister?” He holds out his hand to her, offering a lopsided grin.

Just like that, the dull ache of being second to a girl he might never talk to again after a few weeks melts away. She stands, slaps his hand in a terrible high-five, and says, “The food court by the pier.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

The rest of the day goes by in a blur, the finer details falling away to let her remember what it felt like to be eighteen and free. This whole SPD business started as a sort of community service deal, after all. Maybe, she thinks as Light-shifter pulls image after image out from her memory, if she had given college a shot, she’d be working somewhere else now. Maybe she’d be in another city altogether.

Or maybe Earth wouldn’t exist anymore.

 _“Such petty human emotions,”_ says Light-shifter.

“That’s what this is about?” Z asks him aloud, shutting her eyes against the spinning the world is doing all around her. “Me being a _little_ upset that we didn’t go ride the Ferris wheel on our graduation day because Jack had a date?” She sneers. “That’s not very dark, and I’m not ashamed of it.”

_“You had forgotten this moment, and now you rationalize it away. This is not self-mastery.”_

“It’s honesty.”

_“And it is missing the point.”_

The next living memory is of a night a few weeks after graduation, when Jack is out with Kelsey and Z is coming home from exchanging bottles for a handful of change. She could make more than this in a ten minute walk through Parkington Market, but at least this is a-okay from the authorities’ point of view. Running from the police doesn’t seem like the best way to end an overall good day.

Stuffing the money in her pocket, she crosses the street, taking the shorter way home through the park. Overhead, the sky is partly cloudy, offering no rain to relieve the city below of the heat of the day. She’d spent most of the afternoon going from store to store, chasing leftovers and old, discarded items to trade with later on. She’d only gotten a handful of trades for her trouble, but they were good ones, things she and Jack needed.

Their home is empty when she gets there. The space is small, an old office in an abandoned warehouse, but she doesn’t mind the cramped quarters. They’ve restored an old solar panel to give them power, a few feet away there’s an emergency shower from when the place housed chemicals for transport, and at the far end of the space, there is even a working bathroom. Jack simply walks in through any wall he wants, while Z has to create a duplicate to let herself in from the inside, a safety feature they both liked when they had gone house-hunting. A few months after they’d turned seventeen – after _she_ had, at any rate; Jack’s exact birthday was a mystery, but at least they’d gotten doctors to attest to his age when he’d been placed in a foster home – they had been encouraged to start planning out the next few years of their lives. They’d started thieving more carefully since then, doing their first real jobs in smelly alleys, away from prying eyes. Probably not what their guardians and school guidance counselors had had in mind, but it was a life, and it was certainly a purpose.

Jack talks team like it’s all there is in the world, their team, their cause. It’s only natural after all these years together. He could sway hundreds to it if he tried, but that’s not his style. He likes to get his hands dirty, bypass the red tape, go right to where he believes a need exists. Z admires that and goes along with it, but she knows there is more that can be done. There’s satisfaction to their work, but it leaves her hollow. For every person they feed, there are countless others starving and being abused, and that’s not even counting people outside the city. The authorities can’t act fast enough, and people like Z and Jack lack the power to do more.

She hears the distant wail of a police siren and takes it as the night’s call, heading out into the muggy night again before her thoughts consume her. At this hour, night life is in high swing. Jack and Kelsey are probably in a nicer part of town, grasping at happiness in a world that’s dirty and sad. Z is glad for them, though. They deserve it. Jack deserves it.

Her aimless walk leads to the underside of an overpass just six blocks from their warehouse. Just on the edge of a street light’s illumination, a pair of street musicians plays a mournful song on an old guitar and a flute. For safety’s sake, Z replicates and has the two copies stand in the shadows as she approaches.

They finish the song with all they’ve got, and Z claps.

“You’ve got good taste, kid,” says the guitarist, nodding his thanks at her. He runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair while the flutist, a woman with seaweed for hair and scaly blue skin, gives her a salute. “You play anything?” asks the guitarist.

“Nope,” Z answers. “No time for music.”

“You in school?” asks the guitarist.

“Nah.” Z tries to look nonchalant about that, shrugging and giving him a smile. “Not anymore, anyway. Just graduated.”

“Hats off to you,” says the flutist, laughing. “It’s a great summer to be off.”

“Why do you say that?” Z asks.

“ _Changes_ ,” the guitarist half says, half sings to the tune of a song Z doesn’t know. “Pretty soon you’ll be out on your own in the world, like me and Mazri here.”

Mazri nods, smiling at Z. “This is when your life begins, day by day.”

“I guess I’m off to a good start,” Z tells them.

“What’s your music, then?” asks Mazri. “What makes your heart dance?”

“Because, you know, if your heart’s not dancing – even if you don’t know the steps – then what’s the point, right?”

That earns them a chuckle as she answers, “Good music.” They laugh, and Z continues, “Helping people. Making a difference.”

“Now those are some quality songs, eh, Cal,” says Mazri. “Music for the whole galaxy.”

“And there are all these different ways to dance to that,” Cal says, closing his eyes for a moment, doubtless picturing it.

“Yeah,” Z agrees, and her smile fades a bit around the edges.

“My father found his song at the bank clear on the other side of downtown,” Cal tells her. “Nicest banker you ever met.”

“And you found it with your guitar, right?” Z asks, gesturing to the instrument. Through her copies, she checks the surrounding area. The coast is clear for now. The musicians may very well be harmless.

“Oh, no,” Mazri says, giving a loud, raucous laugh.

When Z frowns at Cal, he tells her, “Don’t listen to her. I teach music theory at two colleges here. The kids all hate it. Necessary evil, they call it.” He shakes his head. “There’s beauty in all the theory if they’d only see it.”

She feels it again, the twinge in her stomach of a dying excitement. As much as she hates the structure of school, there’s a lot to be discovered there. Elena used to tell her about her first year in college and how one class had changed her life. “And now I’m here,” she had said, gesturing to the sewing room in the back of her little store. “One day in one class made the difference between my being here, happy as can be, or doing what my mother wanted and going to work at a research lab.”

Mazri’s voice breaks through the memory, saying, “He has a teacher’s heart. You’re never safe around him!”

Z laughs. “You won’t try to talk me into going to college, will you?”

“You mean you aren’t?” He sighs. “It’s not for everyone, I’ll tell you. I’ve met some really bright kids who did better the second they dropped out. But I’ll never stop talking about it. It’s where I learned to dance to my music, and where I learn new steps all the time.”

Mazri laughs again, and Z looks up at the semi-clouded sky. She doesn’t know yet what the steps to her dance are, not the way Jack seems to know the ones to his. For now, his suit her just fine, even though her feet don’t quite fit in the footprints he leaves behind.

She spends the next hour with Mazri and Cal, learning to strum a few basic chords that hang in the air even as the memory fades and she’s back in the cave prison cell. Her eyes sting, and her breathing is measured and even as the last of the melodies from that night fades away.

“What _are_ those dance steps, I wonder?” asks Light-shifter, standing behind her, as far back as the cavern allows. “Have you really found them? You, fourth in line – a fact that is broadcast to any who see you in action. Why, even the fifth in the chain has seniority over you. In whose steps do you follow? Do you even know where you stand?”

“I’m right where I need to be,” Z says, glaring at the empty space in front of her.

“A necessary but replaceable member of what seems to be a flawed team. At least, that is what _your_ thoughts tell me.”

She whirls to face him and uses the momentum to leap towards him, aiming a kick at his head. He blocks it easily, murmuring something under his breath that sends her halfway across the room. Standing, she squashes the urge to try again but stays in a defensive stance.

“Surely you did not expect to succeed,” Light-shifter says more than asks, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“No one can ever be sure of anything,” she tells him. “Nothing ever feels right long enough for that. All we have are moments, and we hang onto those for all that we are. If I hadn’t done it Jack’s way for so long, I never would’ve—” Her voice catches, and she has to clear her throat. The stinging in her eyes comes back full force, blurring the room for one horrible moment. “I don’t regret it. I would do it all over again. I’m where I right need to be,” she repeats, more firmly this time. “And if I die on the job, then I’ll die knowing I was doing what I needed to do in the best way I knew how. Whatever happens after that isn’t up to me.”

Light-shifter is silent a moment, then nods. “I will accept this as sufficient for you to proceed.”

“Is this a _game_ to you?” Z demands.

“As I discussed with you earlier, these are tests that you must pass to—”

“To amuse you,” she interrupts, glaring. “To—to keep me from finding a way out of here, right? You’re just going to make me relive my entire life until Broodwing catches the rest of my friends, aren’t you?”

“Broodwing lacks the power to bring them here,” Light-shifter says, unfazed. “And you have not yet earned my explanation. By your leave, Yellow Ranger, shall we proceed, or would you prefer another five minutes to recuperate?”

She sighs, the tension leaving her body with the breath. “I’m fine,” she says, staring straight at him. “Let’s just keep going.”

“Not so fast.”

Broodwing materializes through the rock wall and snaps his fingers, calling up the screen. The rest of the B-Squad is there, where Light-shifter took Z, fighting a team of Krybots.

“It seems I underestimated your friends,” Broodwing says as Z, mesmerized, watches the feed. Then he turns to Light-shifter, his cape fluttering about him, and says, “I need you elsewhere for a moment.”

*

Bridge and Syd arrive just in time to help Jack and Sky fight off a third wave of Krybots. Once the minions have been dispatched, they gather in a circle, looking out, waiting.

“That can’t be all that’s here,” says Sky.

Syd glances at Bridge. Even through her helmet, he knows the look she’s giving him. He nods at her, looks out in front of him again, and says, “It’s not. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.”

“Do you see something?” Jack asks.

“No.” For good measure, he focuses, blocking out their energies so he can hear only whatever threat may be out there. After a few seconds, he shakes his head, inhaling deeply. “There’s nothing here.”

Jack waits a moment longer, then tells them all, “Power down.”

“Was one of your ideas right after all?” Sky asks Bridge.

“Yeah,” Bridge answers. “But I still don’t _really_ know what it means.”

“Tell us what you found out,” Jack says.

“There’s something—some being or another—that somehow… sort of split Z in two, or something like that. It’s this weird, sparkly-looking energy thing, and I don’t think it’s done with us yet. It was at the base when I was reading Z’s aura. And I think it’s—”

The same searing pain from headquarters hits him, and this time, Syd has to hold him upright. It’s only a second, a mere moment where he shuts his eyes and has to find the strength to stand, but when he does and opens his eyes again, he doesn’t need to take off his gloves to see the rippling in the air as it slithers towards Jack.

Bridge spares no time to yell a warning. He launches himself at Jack, knocking him out of harm’s way. As Jack protests and pushes Bridge off of him, Syd heads for them, grabbing Sky’s arm and all but yanking him behind her.

“Was that your sparkly energy thing?” Sky asks as he helps Bridge sit up.

Wincing against the pain, Bridge nods. “It’s—really strong.” He yanks off a glove, clumsily swiping his hand through the air. It’s there, a serpentine form twisting and hovering in the air just a few yards in front of them. He points at it, even though the others can’t see it.

“How do we fight this thing?” Jack asks.

“Think happy thoughts?” Bridge suggests.

Syd shakes her head. “I wish.”

“Shields,” Sky says, standing. “Keep pointing at it. I’m going in.”

As Jack and Syd protest, Bridge nods, and the energy form heads for them. Sky generates a shield and takes one step forward before impact. The force of it flings Sky back towards the others. Once he is sure Sky is all right, Bridge looks for the energy form.

In its place is a short, green man wearing a white tunic, dusting himself off as he stands.

“A Leafling,” says Sky. “Why would a Leafling attack us unprovoked?”

“I don’t think he’s working alone,” says Bridge. “The Krybots just now, and Broodwing earlier—”

“You are correct, Green Ranger,” says the Leafling. “You are most astute. As are you, Blue Ranger. I commend you for your quick thinking.”

“Where’s our friend?” Jack demands.

“Safe,” the Leafling answers. “Had you been more cooperative, you would have gone to join her. As it stands, I owe you some measure of congratulations on this victory. The terms of my contract do not provide for my facing you in solid form.” He nods his head at them, a slight smile on his face. “Until we meet again, I will go and keep your friend company.”

Jack stands, ready to run, but the Leafling is gone before he takes even one step. Turning, he asks, “Bridge, can you see where he went?”

Bridge shakes his head as Sky helps him stand. He doesn’t need to call his power to know. The lack of pain in his head is sign enough that their enemy is nowhere near and has left no trail in his wake.

“But now we know who we’re dealing with,” says Syd. She doesn’t look half as optimistic as she sounds, but she goes on anyway. “Now we can come up with a plan for when we run into him again.”

And they _will_ run into him again, Bridge thinks. The questions is, when will that be, and will they be able to save themselves and their teammate when they do?

*

“Your only request is for me to bring your foes here as captives,” Light-shifter explains to Broodwing once he is back in the cavern. “There is nothing in our agreement that states I am to engage in battle with them.”

“I hired you to _eliminate_ them!” Broodwing screeches. “They were right in front of you, and you let them walk away! What good are you?”

“Am I to take that as a cancelation of our contract?”

“ _No_ , you fool,” Broodwing snaps. “You’re not finished.” He stalks away, passing through the wall, leaving his prisoner and her guard alone.

Unfazed, Light-shifter says, “I never imagined I was.”

“You let them go,” Z says. She turns to Light-shifter, frowning, more suspicious of him than ever before. “Why?”

“The terms of my contract do not provide for my facing them in solid form.”

“You’re facing _me_ in solid form. How are they any different?” Light-shifter says nothing, and suddenly, Z understands. “I’m— Neither of us is in solid form right now.”

“Correct.”

The ground is firm beneath her feet, but she feels all the unsteadiness of the moments between memories. “This is—Is any of this even real?”

“It is very much real.”

“I’m not dead.” She says it to herself, to try to undo the knot doubt ties in her stomach.

“You are alive,” Light-shifter tells her. “Your physical form is in the custody of your team.”

Gesturing to her body, or what appears to be that, she asks, “So this is—my spirit?”

“I believe a more appropriate translation into your human language would be ‘consciousness.’”

Light-headed, Z shuts her eyes and places a hand on the nearest wall.

“I take it you will be requiring a brief rest before we proceed?”

Despite herself, she manages a chuckle. What difference does it make if she is only mentally here while her body is elsewhere? Knowing before beginning Light-shifter’s tests would not have changed her responses, and surely, even if she were in her physical body, she would have relived her memories in a pseudo-physical form anyway, right? Yes, of course. She is not ashamed of her past, and she is sure of where she is now.

All that’s left is to find out where it will take her, and the only way to do that is to get out of here, which means passing Light-shifter’s next test.

Inhaling deeply, she meets his gaze with renewed conviction. “I’m ready.”

At once, the walls fade away, and she is surrounded by storm clouds again. She is hovering in the air with her eyes closed, and then she is falling, plummeting through clouds and light for the longest three seconds of her life.

Instinctively, she reaches for something to grab onto, and her hands find a ledge that she slides from for too long from until coming to a stop. She hangs there, catching her breath as she counts to five, and opens her eyes to look below.

She is dangling high above the ocean. A gusty wind blows dust and pollen into her eyes. Grunting, she pulls herself up higher, getting her elbows over the ledge. The fear of what could have been keeps the pain out of her limbs for now. Months of training have made her stronger, and as many months fighting alien threats have made her more resilient.

With both arms on the ledge, she pauses a moment for breath. The wind blows from behind her, as if cheering her on. Her strength renewed, she looks up and ahead.

But there, in the space that should be hers alone to stand upon, she sees a pair of black boots adorned with large, curved blades, and the bright purple fabric of an outfit she remembers all too well.

“What kept you?” asks Morgana. “I’ve been waiting for _so long_ in this dreadful, _boring_ place.” She grabs Z by the neck of her uniform jacket and lifts her to eye level. Smirking, child and woman all at once, she says, “Let’s play.”

*

“Oh, no.”

“What is it?”

Syd places a hand on Bridge’s shoulder as he forces himself to take deep, even breaths. With Z’s headphones in his hands, he has been seeking her amid normally invisible, pulsing lights. The others have been working on a plan to fight the Leafling when next they meet him, save for Syd, who has been watching Bridge in case something happens as he journeys.

Unfortunately, there is nothing she can do to help what he’s just seen and felt.

Sky and Jack turn to them, but do not yet move from their seats. They don’t need to for Bridge to feel the hot, erratic concern radiating from them.

Turning to Syd, Bridge says, “You know how when someone is in a coma for a really long time and then they wake up, you’ll hear them talk about what they saw while they were unconscious? Or—or those people who say they talked to deceased loved ones while they were under for surgery? Or those near-death experiences that some people have, or the out-of-body—”

“Yes, I’ve heard of those,” Syd prompts.

Sighing shakily, Bridge continues, “It’s like—lost souls. Something like that. I don’t know the real idea or anything, but—it’s not important. What _is_ important is that right now, Z is like one of those people, not dead but not in her body, and if something happens to her, then—”

“Oh, _no_ ,” Syd breathes.

“Exactly,” says Bridge.

“The alien that attacked us,” says Jack. “The Leafling. He’s the one who took her, right?”

Bridge nods.

“Then he can hurt her,” says Sky.

“But how do we fight them if they’re just energy forms?” Syd asks.

Bridge shuts his eyes tight, frowning, thinking hard as the others’ energies fill the air. With the four of them of one mind, the loud, vibrant colors help him focus, and suddenly, it comes to him.

His eyes snap open, and he looks at each of them in turn. “This might be really difficult,” he says, “and maybe not all of us will be able to do it, but it’s worth a shot.” When none of them presses him for more, he tells them, all serious, “Collective dream.”

*

Morgana tosses Z onto the grass, away from the edge of the cliff. As Z lands hard on her side, she has only a moment to think. This is not a memory. This has never happened. Is this a possible future?

She rolls out of the way of Morgana’s kick, leaping to her feet once she can. Morgana is in her suit, but not her helmet. Z won’t even waste the time trying to morph. If this is anything like the cave, it won’t work. Replicating, though, is another matter altogether. Her eyes flash, and at either side of her appears a double. In unison, the three of them take their fighting stance as Morgana laughs.

“Playing dirty, are we?”

“Just following your lead,” Z says.

Morgana takes her stance, grinning. “This will be more fun than I thought.”

Z and her copies scatter as Morgana launches herself at them, slicing through the air with the blades on her gloves. One double narrowly avoids injury while another attacks, trading positions with the real Z so she can swing at Morgana from behind. Morgana turns, her boot connecting with a double’s stomach as she goes. The blow draws on Z’s focus for recovery, but she stays firm on her feet, ducking and punching like this is a dance.

The next time Morgana hits that same copy, Z lets it go, and Morgana pauses for a laugh.

“You know, Z,” she says, her eyes going from the real Z to the duplicate, “it’s such a shame. You and I could be so good together. We could eliminate Gruum and Broodwing and set out on our own. No one could get in our way!”

“Yeah, except for the part where I don’t work with evil overlord wannabes.”

“But you’ve worked with criminals before, haven’t you? You’ve _been_ one.”

Z freezes for a moment, and Morgana takes the opportunity to cut through the remaining double. Cursing herself, Z focuses. She shouldn’t spare the energy it will take to replicate again, not when it would be put to better use figuring out Light-shifter’s angle.

“There’s no way you would know that for sure,” Z says, leaping out of the way of Morgana’s attack.

Morgana giggles, all maniacal child. “I know so much more than you could possibly imagine.”

Z runs to her, jumps, lands a kick to Morgana’s shoulder. When she’s back on the ground, Z turns, and her forearm crosses with Morgana’s. From between their hands, Morgana sneers at her. “I’ve beaten you before,” she says. “What makes you think you’ll win now?”

Z allows herself a smirk. “You’re not real.”

She shoves Morgana back and launches a full-out attack, pushing Morgana to the cliff’s edge with every step and punch and kick. Despite this not being a physical reality, exhaustion starts to creep up on Z, but she will not fail. She doesn’t know what Light-shifter hopes to show her with this, but she does know that when there is a fight against the Troobian Empire, she must win.

One more step has Morgana losing her balance, teetering over the edge. “You wouldn’t,” she says the moment her weight is centered safely again. “Killing isn’t your style.”

Z narrows her eyes but stays in place. “No.”

Morgana smirks. “But you want to do it. You wish you could.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.” Morgana laughs, soft and sinister. “Go ahead. Do it. No one’s stopping you. When you report back home, tell them I fell all on my own. You’re used to lying, aren’t you? What harm will it do?”

“I’m not a murderer,” Z all but growls.

“What is it you in law enforcement say? Self-defense is not a crime.”

“This isn’t self-defense anymore.”

“Then what about saving your precious planet?”

Z hesitates. It’s too good a point to simply ignore. Academy regulations allow for extermination of a target in extreme cases, but no matter how she looks at this situation, she can’t justify the use of fatal force. A life is still a life, and ever since Cruger told them that Morgana is mentally a child, Z can’t get it out of her head that this could be any girl she met on the streets, lost and angry and confused, lashing out at the world because she will never be safe anywhere but her own mind. Wasn’t it like this with Sam, too? Is there a point with each person after which they can never go back to who they once were?

“You’re so weak,” Morgana says quietly. “But you’ll make a wonderful doll.”

Z’s reaction is all instinct, twisting and ducking out of the way of Morgana’s glove blade, kicking her legs out from under her. Morgana falls over the edge with a shriek, and Z rushes to her, reaching out just in time to grab her hand.

“Hold on!” Z tells her, straining to pull her up.

Laughing, Morgana lifts her other arm to wave at her, then slashes Z’s arm with a blade. Z recoils and lets go, and Morgana falls to the beach below.

Gasping, Z turns away before Morgana’s body hits the rocks and water.

 _“Well done,”_ says Light-shifter, his voice vibrating in the air all around her. _“Marvelously performed.”_

“I tried to save her,” Z says, breathless. “I wanted—”

 _“To change her against her will?”_ he completes for her.

As Z catches her breath, her surroundings change, and she is in the storm cloud place again, only this time, there is lightning flashing overhead, and a cold wind blows from this way and that with every gust and breeze.

Light-shifter stands before her, more imposing than ever despite his stature.  “That is a great flaw among you humans,” he says to her, eyes narrowed. “You cannot accept what does not agree with your point of view. It has caused your kind great pain for far too long. You create laws and institutions to protect ‘order,’ and you punish those who would think to defy them in the name of a greater good.

“It should greatly surprise anyone who truly knows you that you, who once took a different path to achieve the goals your planet seeks, should be so tied to these rules that judged and sentenced you for your generosity. You possess the capacity to do much more than you can, do you not? You have felt this your whole life.”

“I want to be part of something bigger,” she had said to Jack before this new part of their lives had begun, before SPD had finally arrested them and Cruger had offered her a chance to live her dream. The memories come to her so sharply that she does not see Light-shifter approach, and she is too late to react when he lifts his hand to sweep away the air before him, sending her flying several yards to her left, falling hard enough that her ears ring.

Holding her side with one hand, she gets to her feet. “I passed your tests,” she says, straightening slowly, breathing through the pain. “You owe me answers and a way out.”

“I owe you only answers,” says Light-shifter. “Speak your first question.”

“Why are you working with Broodwing?”

“Because your academy believes it is the only institution with the power and right to grant freedom and protection in this galaxy. It is nothing short of arrogance on the part of your Commander Cruger.”

Z starts to ask another question, but he repeats his attack. This time she falls on her back and skids on the ground. Standing proves more difficult now, but she does it anyway.

“Your next question.”

“Why are you attacking me?”

“Because it is part of my agreement with Broodwing.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have t—”

“We are not in physical form, as we have already discussed. I am well within my right to do away with you here.”

He swipes at the air again, and this time she evades part of it. The force of his invisible attack pushes her back a few steps, but she remains on her feet.

“Proceed if you have further questions.”

Breathing heavily, she reaches for something, anything to ask that will buy her more time to think. “Did I ever stand a chance of making it out of this alive?”

“Only the slightest of one. It is a rare being that can outdo a Leafling.”

She ducks to avoid his next attack, and when she straightens, she asks, “Why do they call you Light-shifter when all you do is betray people like some twisted shadow?”

“What a disappointing inquiry. Did you not meet people like me in your years wandering your city? Besides,” he says, the slightest smirk pulling back his mouth, “why is it that your people attach only positive meanings to light? Have you seen the patterns that the foliage creates on a forest floor when the sun is out? Shifting shadows, shifting light. They are part of the same whole.”

This time when he attacks, the motion is wider, and Z cannot avoid it. The impact knocks the air out of her, and though it takes far too much strength to lift herself so she’s half sitting, half kneeling, she does it anyway. If she doesn’t, he’ll go for the kill. That much is obvious by now.

“Is there a way out of here at all?” she manages.

“Yes, but I doubt if such an inferior species as yours could find it without much trouble.”

“How d—”

He walks towards her and knocks her back again, and all she can do to show him she is still in this game is support herself on her elbows. “How do _you_ get in and out of here?”

Light-shifter stops a few feet from her. “For my people, our physical forms are secondary. We dwell in thoughts and energy instead. This is what some of your supposed madmen say is a future step in human evolution. Perhaps that is true, but it will take your kind far too long to achieve what we have since the beginning of our existence.” Closing the distance between them, he gazes down at her, a predator confident that his prey is within his grasp. “Have you any further questions?”

Her arms tremble with the effort it takes to stay up, and her body aches from the energy blasts she has taken. Giving up now means certain death, but what other option does she have? At the very least, her body is in the infirmary, intact. And didn’t she say she would gladly die in battle if it came to that?

She takes a breath, ready to give it one more try.

Before she can form the words, a blue blur knocks Light-shifter away.

“Sky?”

Sky doesn’t react, facing a standing Light-shifter, ready to fight.

“I’ve got you, sister,” Jack says, lifting her up off the ground.

Z leans heavily on him, wincing. “How are you here? And where are Syd and Bridge?”

“Bridge is anchoring us,” answers Sky.

“And Syd’s anchoring him,” Jack tells her. “We’ve got to get out of here fast. There’s no telling how long we’ll be able to hold on.”

“Fools,” says Light-shifter. “You have sealed your own fate. You cannot leave here while in my presence, and I have leave to eliminate you as I wish.”

“Don’t count on it,” says Sky. Taking a deep breath, he forms a shield and charges, leaping high above the blast Light-shifter sends at him, then slamming his shield into him as he falls. The impact produces a shower of sparks, like an explosion in a normal battle, and when the smoke clears, Light-shifter’s white tunic is charred and smoking all over.

Satisfied, Sky handcuffs him and yanks him to his feet, all but dragging him over to Jack and Z.

“Job well done,” Jack tells him, thumping him on the shoulder as he leads the way back to wherever they came from.

Z lets him hold her up as they go, step by heavy step. “Yeah,” she says to Sky. “Who knew your shield could be an offensive weapon?”

“Well, they say the best defense is a good offense,” Sky says, shrugging. “I figured it might not be a bad idea to flip that and see what happens.”

Laughing quietly, Z closes her eyes and lets Jack take her home, like so many times before.

*

“This cut doesn’t bother me much at all,” Z tells her teammates as they take lunch in the infirmary together. She’s still on mandatory bed rest, and none of them wants to be away from each other for very long. Syd is perched right by her on the bed, while the others have pulled up chairs nearby.

“ _Gash_ ,” Syd corrects, scooping red jell-o with her spoon. “You didn’t see it bleeding.”

Z rolls her eyes. “Compared to getting hit with energy blasts the size of this room, I can handle a little gash.”

“At least the Leafling is contained now,” Bridge says. “I asked Kat to reinforce his containment card just in case.”

“Good,” says Z, nodding.

“Commander Cruger says he was probably acting on his own,” Jack tells them. “His actions don’t represent the thoughts of his people.”

“Maybe we should rethink our stance on things, though,” Z says, gazing down at her fruit cup. “I mean, he kind of had a point.”

With a sympathetic smile, Syd places a hand on Z’s arm. “You don’t have to talk to us about what happened if you don’t want to.”

“Not for a while,” Z says, shaking her head. She takes a breath, straightens, and puts on a smile. “Thanks for not giving up, everyone. I’m ready to lay down my life on the job, but not quite yet.”

“What kind of team would we be otherwise?” asks Bridge, grinning.

“Just be sure to get rest,” Sky says, arching both eyebrows at her. “It took everything we had to get to you. I don’t know how you survived for that long.”

“I think he kept me alive,” Z says.

“Maybe he was hoping that he could change our minds,” says Bridge.

“Or maybe he wanted to kill you himself,” Jack says. “Doesn’t matter now, though. It’s all over. Tomorrow, you’ll start training again, and you’ll be back to normal in no time. I’ve got a bad feeling about the next few weeks.”

“I’ve got so much to look forward to,” Z says with a smirk. The war may not yet be won, but they are strong enough to survive it, to fight to the end if need be, and to save one another from the gates of death against all odds.


End file.
